


Back When

by appalachian_fireflies



Series: Intersex/Trans Steve [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Cuddling & Snuggling, Homophobia, Humor, M/M, Other, Trans Male Character, Trans Steve, Trans Steve Rogers, Transphobia, Vaginal Sex, intersex steve, no sexual abuse, sarah is a+, the strugglebus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5298458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appalachian_fireflies/pseuds/appalachian_fireflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you don’t support me on this, Sarah, then you’d better leave too.”</p><p>“Fine,” ma says.  </p><p>Steve is intersex in the 20's and 30's.  Bucky's always had his back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back When

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as kid fic, but later it's... decidedly not. *throws hands up* i dunno ask my brain
> 
> ppl with bottom dysphoria might not wanna read the last bit, just fyi

It’s not happening like it’s supposed to. It’s too early. People made fun of him before, teased him, pushed him around, sure. But now they're looking at him, really looking, too close, too quiet. 

He tries to clear his throat and keep reading the passage, but his voice cracks again, audible. It cracks once more before he finishes. He wills them not to notice, but he knows better. His hands are shaking. 

"Yes, alright," Mr. Gregory says, "you next, John." 

He walks faster on the way home, because he thinks he might really be in for it, this time. It’s like God heard him praying for this, and in some cruel joke didn’t give him the right body, or the health to go with it, just this. He can’t do this. He can take laughter, tripping, slapping, but this is more than being a little too stubborn and mouthy. He thinks this might actually get him killed. 

A dark shape advances on him from the side- bad ear- and runs into him so hard he sways violently. He’s got his fists raised before he realizes it’s just Bucky, arm around him to catch him before he falls over. 

“What’re doing all the way out here?” Steve blurts quickly to cover his fear. “You didn’t skip class again?” 

“Nah,” Bucky says, looking around. “Got out early today.” 

Steve snorts. “Yeah, alright.”

Steve never really figures out how Bucky heard, but Bucky walks him to his door and says, “I think you should tell your ma. Might not be safe to wait, anymore.” Then Bucky walks off, raises a hand to say goodbye. 

It’s dinnertime by the time ma gets home, and she’s so frazzled trying to get dinner on the stove and cooked before dad gets back that Steve just stays quiet and chops the potatoes. Then he’s doing the eggs, and about a minute before he’s finished da comes in the door. 

He’s sick. He’s going to be sick. He pushes his potatoes around and his head throbs. 

Ma finally looks at him, really looks. “Bad day at school, honey?” 

He tells her everything. He’s so scared he cries. He didn’t even cry when Johnny broke his finger. 

His ma watches him, thoughtful. His dad is quiet. 

He waits, feeling his heart pound like butterfly wings, coughs when it skips. 

“Get out,” his dad says flatly, and the world tips on his side. 

He thought he might be angry. He didn’t even think of this. He didn’t plan for this. 

“Da,” he says, shocked. His father’s lips press into a thin line, and Steve feels it in the room, like a storm. He doesn’t know how he didn’t feel it before. His dad is beyond angry. He’s trying not to beat the shit out of him. Steve stands up, tears suddenly gone, and leaves, closing the front door behind him. 

He stands and blinks at the dark, and thinks he should be panicking. He’ll do…something. He can do something. It’ll be ok. Somehow. 

Ma’s head pops out of the front door, golden light spilling out behind her. “You stay right there,” she orders, then goes back inside, leaving the door cracked. His parents are shouting. He moves closer. 

“I’ve known! Of course I’ve known about whatever she thinks she is, Sarah!”

He can’t hear ma’s reply. 

“I won’t allow it. Not under my roof, you hear me? Never. She straightens herself out, or she leaves.”

More soft words. 

“-don’t support me on this, you’d better leave too.”

“Fine,” Steve hears clearly. Then the conversation stops. He hears footsteps, and it’s quiet for a while.

Then the yelling starts up again, louder, angrier, and Mrs. Callahan from next door pokes her head out disapprovingly, notices Steve, steps outside. She’s five foot nothing, and Steve’s always been a little afraid of her. 

When his ma opens the door, two stuffed bags in hand and a quilt over her arm, Mrs. Callahan stares behind her disapprovingly at da. 

“You moving out then, dear?” Mrs. Callahan says to ma. 

“Yes, Mary,” Ma says, her neat bun in disarray, but looking no less poised for it. 

“Come here, then,” Mrs. Callahan says. “I’ll walk you for a telegram.” 

And just like that, da goes quietly back into the house. 

While Ma types up the telegram to Mrs. Barnes, asking for her to send a couple of her boys over to pick them up, Steve feels the room move like molasses. He blinks, and Mrs. Callahan is there. 

“Ma saved Miz Barnes’ daughter in the hospital, once,” Steve says by way of explanation. “Doctor put in the wrong medication.” 

Mrs. Callahan nods sagely. “Your ma’s a smart woman.” 

Steve nods, then he bursts into tears. 

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Callahan draws out a kerchief, “hush, now.”

“’S my fault,” Steve admits, hushed. His ma is at the desk, now. “I did it. I made him mad.” 

“It was not,” Mrs. Callahan says firmly, then holds the kerchief to his nose. “Blow,” she instructs, and he does. “You be strong for your ma, now.” She pats him on the shoulder. 

She doesn’t understand. It is his fault. And he thinks he’s only starting to realize what he’s done. 

When Mrs. Callahan has left and they’re waiting for the Bucky and Richard to show up, Sarah wraps an arm around her child, and speaks in a soft voice. 

“Bucky calls you Steve, doesn’t he?” she prompts gently. 

Steve stiffens, but nods his head. He doesn’t think he can take it if she knows his name, and uses it to make fun of him. 

“Right, then,” she says, businesslike, “we’ll go with that. You like that?” 

He nods, dumbfounded. 

She pats his shoulder. “We’ll live with Winnifred and George for a week or so, till we can find a little place. Then we can get you some different clothes, ok?” 

“Ma,” Steve says, shocked. “We can’t.” 

“Well, why not?” she asks, like she’s really listening. 

“Da-,” he says vaguely. 

Her expression softens, and the hand on his shoulder squeezes. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, sweetheart.”

Steve shakes his head, blinking fast. “He was right.” 

“No,” she says, quick and firm. “No, you look at me, honey.” He looks into her eyes, and she nods. “I want you to remember this. Actually, I want you to promise me. Can you do that?” 

He nods, trapped by her gaze. 

“Don’t you ever believe it when people say things like that about you. There’s nothing wrong with you.” She hugs him, and draws back. “Don’t let them make you feel like less than you are. You’re so good, honey.” 

Eventually, the gaggle of Barneses arrive (Bucky, Richard, and George). Bucky checks Steve’s shoulder, takes a suitcase. 

“Hey,” Bucky says. 

“Hey.”

“Does this mean you’re moving to Brooklyn?” 

\--

Sarah asks if he’s sure. 

Then she uses her medical knowledge and a carefully written letter, but mostly a few sheepish smiles, to convince the court his documents were a mistake. They're changed. She gets him second hand clothes. She cuts his hair in the kitchen sink, sizes him up, nicks a little more off the sides. 

She tells him to be brave. 

\--

He gets punched. A lot. It’s not so bad. 

This time, it’s because he’s the wrong kind of man; too small, too pretty. They make fun of his lips and his eyelashes so many times that one day he storms into the bathroom and cuts his lashes really short with a pair of fabric scissors. Bucky winces when he sees him. The other kids just laugh harder, and he gives up on thinking he can be what they want. 

He can make his voice pretty deep, though, after he practices. 

He tries his best to stand his ground; he knows they’ll eat him alive if they sense weakness. Plus, there are some things they say to people that aren’t right. It could hurt them. He has to stop it. 

\--

The first time Bucky kisses him, they’re fourteen. It goes very, very badly. 

Bucky’s teasing him, and then Steve takes Bucky’s gum and things escalate until they’re wrestling. Bucky pins him (ugh), and snatches Steve’s pack to get his gum back. 

Steve realizes in a split second of horror that when he threw the gum in the bag, he hadn’t been thinking of what was in it. 

“No-,” Steve says, but Bucky already has the bag open. He pauses, then pulls out his gum, flicks the packet open. There’s no way he didn’t see. 

“They’re, uh,” Steve stammers. “Dressings. Wound dressings.” 

Bucky pops his gum. “I got sisters, Steve. Calm down.” 

Steve hits Bucky’s knees, and Bucky rolls off him. Steve feels his heart pounding. 

“’S no big deal,” Bucky shrugs, languid against the foot of the couch. 

“Well,” Steve shoots back quickly, “that’s what you think. You don’t gotta wear them. They’re like diapers.” 

Bucky snorts, rustles in the bag, pulls out the belt, and snaps it. “Figure you’re probably right. They gotta have a better system for this.” 

Steve scratches the scattered, but stiff blond hairs on his jaw. “Well,” he says eloquently. 

Bucky drops it. Literally. He puts the belt back in the bag, and goes to look through the cabinets. “I’m starving,” he says, and Steve can’t disagree with that. 

The pot’s on the stove, and finally Bucky lets out a dramatic sigh that mostly sounds like a whine. “Steeve. You’re being weird.” 

“I’m not,” Steve says shortly. 

“Don’t be sore,” Bucky wheedles. “I didn’t mean to, whatever it was.” 

“It’s not that,” Steve says, stabbing the noodles viciously with a spoon. 

Bucky’s face appears in front of his. “What.” 

“Ugh.” Steve backs away from the stove. “I can’t go to the dance tomorrow.” 

“Why not?” Bucky asks, tilting his head. “You should. Girls’ll be wearing those flapper dresses, with the beads. I know you like those.” 

Steve stirs the pasta, trying to think, but then Bucky comes up with a brilliant idea. 

“Oh! Don’t worry about that,” Bucky says, and Steve looks at him like he’s crazy. “Everyone can dance. I’ll teach you.” 

“Wait, no,” Steve stutters while Bucky hunts in ma’s room for the radio. 

Bucky finds a song, then extends a hand with a flourish. Steve crosses his arms. 

“Listen,” Steve says, putting the spoon down. “It’s not that.” He sighs. 

“You’re letting a good song go, Steve,” Bucky points out. 

“Shut up a minute,” Steve says finally, “don’t think I’ve ever met someone who likes the sound of his own voice so much.”

Bucky pouts. 

“It’s just, well, you know. It wouldn’t be right. I’d be lying to them.” 

Bucky scoffs. “You wouldn’t either. You don’t lie about anything.” 

“They don’t want me anyway,” Steve laughs, but Bucky doesn’t join him in it this time. Instead Bucky grabs his hand, and pulls him into a twirl. Steve squawks. 

“Quit it!” he laughs. 

“Nope,” Bucky says cheerfully. “Follow first, then you can lead. Got it?” 

Steve laughs and trips over his feet and dances really horribly until Bucky finally pauses after the third song when they’re inches away, smiling. 

“I’d take you,” Bucky says, and then he leans down and brushes his lips over Steve’s.

Steve freezes, backs off. “I’m not a girl,” he says, stony. 

“Steve,” Bucky says, immediately looking contrite. “I didn’t mean-“

“You should go home. Sun’ll be setting soon,” Steve says, arms over his chest. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bucky says miserably. 

“I know,” Steve says, forgiving him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Buck.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, “yeah, ok.”

After Bucky walks out the door, Steve can’t stop the angry tears while he chops the onion and the tomatoes. Bucky’s the only one who ever knew him, and he thinks Steve’s a girl. The rest is just humoring him. He’s not mad at Bucky, not really. He just hates it. He hates himself. 

\--

“I KISSED FREDDIE TOO, OKAY?” Bucky shouts when he’s sixteen, and Steve is actually speechless. 

It’s been boiling over for weeks; Buck’s an emotional person, really, and when he’s moody, he’s moody. 

If you’d asked Steve before this moment what it was about, though, this is not what he would have guessed. He sets his sketchbook down, half-finished drawing of Bucky scowling up at him. 

“W-what?” Steve stutters out, high-pitched. 

“I know you’re sore ‘cause I kissed you again,” Bucky pants, “but it’s not ‘cause I think you’re a girl, okay?” Bucky’s eyes are watering, which is completely horrifying. Bucky’s even-keeled, always knows they’ll get through it, whatever it is. Steve’s seen him cry a handful of times, and mostly after his dad died. 

Suddenly, the message sinks in. “Oh,” Steve says, soft. 

Bucky flops down into a chair, drags it forward. “What’s that mean?” he says miserably. 

“I’m thinking,” Steve says. 

After a few minutes, Bucky’s eyes narrow. “You’re thinkin’ too long.”

Steve spreads his hands helplessly. “It’s a sin, Buck! It’s, illegal. I don’t know. I’m thinking.”

Bucky’s spine straightens, and he stands up, pushes the chair back in. “Well, if that’s what you think,” he says, and grabs his bag. He turns around. 

“I was there for you, Steve. I always was. You’re a rotten friend.” 

“I’m here for you,” Steve says, confused, “hey, wait-“ 

The door bangs shut behind Bucky. Steve sits at the table for a long time, thinking. Then he goes to see Father Maher. 

“I don’t know that I have anything to confess,” he admits behind the screen. “I think I have a question.” 

“I’ll do my best to answer it, son,” Father Maher says. 

“What does the Bible says about inverts?” 

“That’s- that’s a very serious sin,” Father Maher says gravely. “The Bible calls it an abomination.” 

“Oh,” Steve says. He’d heard as much. “Can you tell me the chapter and verse, father?”

Father Maher stumbles a bit, but manages to find it. Steve writes it down. He taps his pencil on his thigh. 

“Do you have another question, son?” 

“Yes, I think so,” Steve says thoughtfully. “What if it’s two men, but one of them’s like a girl, inside.” 

“Transvestism?” Father Maher says faintly. “Stephen, God created you in his image, and he wants you to live as you were created.”

“Oh,” Steve says, relieved. “That’s great. Thank you, Father.”

He’s out the door before he remembers he forgot the Hail Mary’s he’s probably been assigned. 

He finds his mother’s bible, reads Leviticus, and is enormously relieved. 

The next day, he tracks down Bucky after work. 

“Hey!” he says brightly, “I read Leviticus.” 

“Good for you,” Bucky says faintly. He’d been ready to shove Steve away, he could see it, but he’s too shocked now. Good. 

“Abomination doesn’t mean, well, _abomination_. Wool and linen mixed together’s an abomination. And shellfish. I don’t figure there’s anything wrong with being an invert at all.” 

Bucky’s eyes go comically wide, and he looks around. He doesn’t have to; Steve already checked. “Fine, I’ll come back with you. Just shut up, ok?”

Steve grins. 

“Sodom and Gomorrah ain’t a story about inverts, neither,” Steve waves a hand dismissively, once the door’s closed behind them. “It’s about having sex with people who don’t want to have it. It doesn’t say anything about what men do together, otherwise.” 

“Happy for you and your revelation,” Bucky grunts. He doesn’t take his coat off. 

Right. “I’m sorry,” Steve says, honest. “I’m really, really sorry. I should’ve just listened, and trusted you, like you did with me. It shouldn’t matter to me what other people say. I’m a rotten friend.” 

“You owe me a milkshake,” Bucky says finally. Steve shakes on it. 

\--

Steve’s ma took shifts in the TB ward a few years back, when Steve got sick and work was hard to come by and she was a woman trying to feed two people on the money they gave her. She was very careful.

Unfortunately, it still comes for her. She's dead before he turns seventeen, and it's his fault. If she didn't have to look after a weak, sickly kid no one else would've wanted, if he'd tried harder to fit in and she'd stayed with dad, she'd be alive. 

The world is colder without her safety, her strength. Bucky leaves home, and they find a place together, take whatever work they can get. Bucky’s still sending back money to his ma and sisters. 

They have pictures Steve drew of her, and a candle they light when they’re home. Bucky says he’ll never forget her. That she was the bravest woman he ever met, and they’re both lucky to’ve been raised by her. 

He knows he could survive without Bucky. He's also afraid of what a lonely world that could be, but it's not worth thinking about. He'd survive.

\--

Unfortunately, what he’s learned (and continues learning) about inverts cracks open something in him, something he’s pretty sure has been there all along and would’ve hit him over the head soon anyhow. If he’d been more aware, he would’ve hid the sketchbooks, now that he thinks about it. 

He doesn’t just love Bucky. He’s in love with Bucky. 

He loves the way Bucky does his hair in the morning and the way he walks when they go out. He spends hours trying to get the bow of his lips right, draw his hooded eyes laughing. He’s in deep, and there’s no way out but through. 

So he eventually gets fed up, and kisses him. Bucky freezes, and Steve’s ready to backpedal. He opens his mouth. 

“You’re not like that,” Bucky says, and Steve’s first thought is that he wants so badly to kiss away Buck’s worried frown, so he laughs. “You like girls,” Bucky insists. 

“Well, I dunno,” Steve thinks about it. “I think girls are really pretty. I think some boys look nice, too. But I’ve never felt the way I feel about you, about anyone.” Steve flicks the furrow between Bucky’s eyebrows. 

“This ain’t a joke, Steve. This could get both of us dead.” 

“Why do they need to know?” Steve asks, and leans in. Bucky shivers. 

They draw the curtains, but all they do is kiss, then settle down later to sleep together, like they always have.

\--

Steve’s in an alley with his hand down Bucky’s pants when they nearly do get killed. It’s night, and they’re coming back from a week at the Barnes’ for Christmas, and, well. Eggnog and a week of heated stares leads to teasing, leads to touching, leads to kissing, then they’re here. 

He hears the group of guys when they’re already on them, and, fuck, this might be Brooklyn but it ain’t their apartment with the curtains shut. It’s dark enough to try and make up a story, but god knows how well it’ll hold. They both freeze. 

“Steve!” a woman’s voice calls, then Becca approaches. “You get yourself hurt again? This isn’t why your mama taught Buck how to stitch wounds, you know.” 

Steve pulls his hand out of Bucky’s trousers, and holds it to his side. 

“Well, you know,” he says lamely. 

“Becca,” Bucky hisses in warning, clearly hoping she’ll run. But the group of men clearly didn’t see anything; they’re already moving away. Becca watches them go. 

She straightens Steve’s tie, then his jacket. She pats the grit from the wall off his shoulders. 

“You know, you two really ought to be more careful,” she said. “I should’ve been asleep half an hour ago, instead of following your fool asses out here.” She winks at them, and walks away from their gaping mouths. 

“She’s always been observant,” Steve notes. 

“Yeah, Bec’s, she’s, yeah,” Bucky manages. 

\--

“C’mon,” Bucky wheedles, plucking at the waistband of Steve’s boxers. Steve slaps his hand away. 

“I already did you!” Steve complains, slurring a little. “Jesus, Barnes.”

“Lord’s name,” Bucky says, deadpan. His brow furrows. “I wanna do you.” He cuddles up to Steve, runs his hands down his sides. “I wanna make you feel good. Let me make you feel good.” Bucky leans forward to kiss one of Steve’s small, pink nipples. Steve’s looking at him, unsure, and Bucky licks firmly. Steve lets out a whimper before he can catch it, and Bucky grins. 

“Ok,” Steve says finally. “Ok.” 

Bucky nuzzles the soft, concave curve of his belly, nips it when it fills with air on the rise of Steve’s breath. He likes to hear him breathe steady, when they’re falling asleep together. “You sure?” he asks. 

Steve blinks at him. “It’s ok if you don’t wanna,” he offers. “I don’t mind.” 

Bucky feels intensely, immensely stupid. He’s been waiting for the past year for Steve to be comfortable enough for this, sometimes wondering if Steve ever would be, but thought that was ok. He hadn’t thought that Steve would think he didn’t _want_ to. He shakes his head. 

“Stevie,” he says, low. “Of course I wanna. Whatever you want, lemme do that.” He runs a palm down past Steve’s belly, plays with the line of his hip. 

Steve hasn’t taken his underwear off in front of Bucky, not ever, not for years, anyway. Even though they live together, and God knows Bucky struts around as much as he likes. He does it more than strictly necessary, to be honest. He thinks maybe it’ll get Steve to loosen up. It’s not like Bucky’s gonna lose his mind and fuck him if he leaves the bathroom without a towel, jeez. 

Now, he’s starting to think the problem’s very different. Luckily, it’s not hard to solve. 

Bucky dips his head to lick the v of Steve’s bony hips, kisses down the join of his leg, the inside of his thigh. He feels Steve’s breath pick up. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, clearing his throat when it comes out high. “Ok.” Steve shuffles out of his underwear, looks away. 

Bucky can fix that, easy. This isn’t his first time. He leans down, licks firmly over Steve’s dick, pressing down. Then he takes him gently between his lips, and sucks. 

Steve shouts, reaches down to grab at Bucky’s hair. He would tell Steve how rude he’s being, except he loves it. It’s not like Steve’s even pushing him down. He gets to work, sucking, pressing hard against his pubic bone, pressing down with his chin to really get him worked up. When he slips a finger into him, Steve sobs. 

“Oh god,” Steve says, eyes wide, then scrunched tight. His skinny thighs are shaking around Bucky’s ears, so Bucky crooks his finger, presses. 

“God, oh, god,” Steve says, and then he lets out a high, shocked noise, fingers clenching tight in Bucky’s hair, back rounding. Bucky can’t look up at him, ‘cause he’s got work to do and Steve’ll be pissed if he stops now, but he knows he looks beautiful. He feels beautiful. He says it in his head, all the sappy, encouraging things he wants to say and Steve wouldn’t tolerate. Steve lets out these sweet little moans while he’s coming around Bucky, noises he’s never heard before. He’s breathing heavily when Bucky draws back, but deeply, steadily. 

Bucky cuddles up behind him, kissing his neck, and he doesn’t realize he’s hard until his dick is pressing between Steve’s slick thighs, the head rubbing against his lips. Bucky draws back, but Steve chases him, squirms until he’s got Bucky back where he wants him. He grinds back against him, and it would be so easy, just to slip into him, give in to what Steve’s asking for. 

“I want it,” Steve says, like a confession. “I want it so bad, Buck, you don’t even know.”

“Shh,” Bucky says, trying to buy time, reroute blood back to his brain. “Why didn’t you just ask?” 

“Not safe,” Steve gasps. “Could get pregnant.” 

Bucky feels the gears in his head grind to a halt, because, _shit_. It hadn’t even occurred to him. Could Steve really get pregnant? 

“Can you-“ he feels Steve get nod. 

“Definitely,” Steve says, miserable. “It’d probably kill me, Doc said. Bad heart, bad lungs, anemic, bad at fighting off disease, well. You know. Plus, developed too early. Bones are too narrow. And if I make it that far- ‘s not like we can just pack up and run off somewhere, if somebody notices.”

Jesus Christ. He’s right. He’s been laying here thinking about it all this time, while Bucky never had to worry about shit like that. 

“Well, so much for the baseball team,” Bucky jokes, and Steve stiffens. 

“If I could,” Steve says softly, “I’d do it.” 

“Hey,” Bucky says, kissing his shoulder. “I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.” Well, he had been, a little. But he’d let it go; he thought Steve’d be horrified by his little fantasies. Plus, and there was really no other way of putting it, Steve was awkward as hell around babies.

Steve turns around to look at him, expression blank. “Maybe I want that, too,” he says, and then he worries his lip. “Could you pull out, you think?” 

Bucky feels his dick twitch at the suggestion. Hell yes, he could. “You’re not nervous about that?”

“I trust you,” Steve says, rubbing up against him. He looks scared as hell. 

“You gotta be honest with me, Steve,” Bucky says gently. “Don’t let me do anything you don’t really want to do.” 

Steve sighs. “But I _do_ ,” he whines. “Just.” 

“Hmm,” Bucky says, and shuffles until he’s spooning Steve. “How about I get some rubbers, and we do both?”

“Oh,” Steve says simply. “Well, yeah, that should be fine. I mean,” he considers, “Father Maher wouldn’t like it, but.” 

“But you think he’s wrong about a lot of things, anyhow,” Bucky concludes. Steve blushes; he’s got that pale Irish skin that shows it off. Steve usually thinks he’s right on most things, and gets a little flustered when someone calls him out on it. 

Bucky’s settling in for a nice cuddle when Steve tries to turn and get a hand down between them. Bucky’s starting to think Steve’s got some wrong ideas about things. 

“Ignore it,” he says casually. “It’ll sort itself.” 

Steve makes a skeptical noise. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

Bucky snorts into the side of his neck. “Who told you that?” Steve shrugs. “It does that when I really need to take a piss. And, you remember that one class presentation on the Great War, when I failed ‘cause I kept losing my sentences, and you thought I had a fever?”

“No,” Steve laughs. 

“Oh yeah,” Bucky nods sagely. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.” 

\--

Steve hangs around the Everard baths and _talks_. Not like he can go in- and he’s invited, plenty of times- but he gets enough information to do things to Bucky’s ass with his tongue and fingers that are so good it almost makes him cry. 

When they figure out Steve likes taking it up the ass just as much as he likes anything else, that solves most of their problems. Steve makes fun of him for being cuddly as hell, but really Bucky just likes rubbing his fingers over Steve’s hole after they’ve fucked and feeling his come there. He’s a little possessive. 

Right now, though, Steve is just in a _mood_. 

“Buck,” Steve says through the pencil in his teeth, frowning.

“Roger,” Bucky replies, not looking up from his paperback. He turns a page, and it falls out. Glue must be unsticking from the cheap binding. 

“You’re distracting me,” Steve says, annoyed. He takes the pencil and erases yet another wonky line of lettering on a store sign in progress. 

“What’m I doing?” Bucky finally looks up raises his eyebrows.

Steve makes a frustrated noise. “ _Sitting._ ”

“Sittin.” 

“Like, _that_ ,” Steve gestures at Bucky. 

He looks down at himself. He does have a tendency to sprawl. “Ok.” 

“Hell,” Steve says, pushing his chair back and walking over, “might as well get this over with so I can be productive, some time today.” Then he slides into Bucky’s lap and kisses him, nips his lip to get him to open up. Bucky makes a noise, grabs at Steve’s hips. He isn’t complaining, even if the Mars warriors were about to- 

Nevermind. 

Steve’s already pushing off his shirt, sighs happily when he can run his hands over Bucky’s torso. Bucky takes them in his, wraps his fingers around the thin wrists, and Steve squirms. 

“That a promise?” Steve asks, and Bucky hums. 

“Convince me,” Bucky says, in the best bored tone he can muster. 

Steve smiles, all pretty and sharp, and slides off Bucky’s lap, down onto his knees. He looks up at him, and Bucky’s breath catches. Jesus, he’s pretty. He can’t say that though. 

Steve leans forward and mouths at Bucky’s dick in his jeans; Steve says he’s a shower and a grower, but Bucky thinks that makes it sounds like he has a monster dick. He _doesn’t_ \- it’s normal, thank you very much, just a little bigger. Between Steve’s legs, anything’d look big, really. Steve works in a hand to tease him, scrapes down the inside of his thighs, and now Bucky’s thinking about Steve’s tight little ass stretched around his dick. He swallows. 

“You want me to fuck you or not?” he says, a little too rough for casual. Steve parts the clasp on his pants, takes the zipper delicately between his teeth and pulls.

“Neat trick,” Bucky says, “but how about-“

Then Steve gets his hand and his mouth on his dick, and Bucky bites his lip to stay quiet. Only someone really stupid, or really smart, would give Steve Rogers a challenge. Bucky’s happy to think he’s in the latter category as his mind goes hazy, and Steve’s soft blond hair falls into his face as his head bobs back and forth over the head of Bucky’s cock, his thumb teasing the vein underneath. Steve takes a deep breath, and Bucky holds his in sympathy when Steve sinks all the way down, his throat swallowing automatically around the head of his dick. He grips Steve’s hair, wants to come down his throat so bad, watch him swallow and cough a little, eyes creasing as he struggles to take it. 

Steve wraps his fingers in a band around the base of Bucky’s cock and squeezes tight, pulling off in one smooth motion. Bucky shoves his hand in his mouth to bite off the whine, stares at Steve with puppydog eyes. 

“Mercy.”

“Thought you said you needed convincing,” Steve smirks, hands on Bucky’s knees, and, well, all’s fair. 

Bucky lifts him under his armpits and hauls him over his shoulder, and Steve is pissed, fists flying like pointy little rocks on his back. Bucky steps out of his pants and boxers. It’s a good thing the shades are already drawn. 

Bucky walks him to the wall, drops him down just enough so that Steve’s forced to wrap his legs around his middle. Bucky crowds him, Steve’s back to the wall, his hard dick rubbing against Steve’s belly. Then he takes Steve’s mouth, deep and claiming, watches as Steve’s pupils go black. 

“Baby,” Bucky says, nipping gently at his throat, less gently at his shoulder. He pulls the skin on his collarbone gently between his teeth, rolls it, watches it bloom red when he lets it go. It’s satisfying as hell, so he does it again, hears Steve’s breath hitch, knows he’s getting wet from the pain. 

Bucky nips at his ear, holds his little hips steady, supporting his weight. “Poor baby,” he murmurs into his ear, “you need it so bad, don’t you? Been three whole days since you got any dick.”

He knows Steve’s far gone when he doesn’t roll his eyes at that, just unzips his pants, fishes a rubber out of one of the pockets (when did he put that there?) and holds it gently between his teeth while he tries to struggle out of them. Bucky chuckles and lifts him by the waist, lets gravity and Steve’s skinny ass do the trick. 

Steve immediately wraps his legs back, puts his arms around Bucky’s shoulders as he kisses him, sloppy and desperate. Bucky pants and matches him; he’s so wet and warm between his legs that his dick slides easily between Steve’s thighs. He wants to make him scream. 

Bucky’s hand is shaking when he slides the rubber on, and when he goes to put a couple fingers in him to make sure he’s ready Steve just grabs his hand with a surprisingly strong grip and shoves it aside. 

“Might hurt,” Bucky says, low, and Steve just nods. 

“Want it to,” Steve says, “please, please,” and Bucky grabs his hair with one hand to yank his head back when he bites his throat, tries not to mark him and fails, one arm supporting Steve’s hips when he pushes into him, feels Steve’s nails scratch down his back. 

Steve sobs, and Bucky kisses him to quiet it. “Good boy,” he says, and it sounds like a growl, and only Steve could get him this worked up, with his sweet, vulnerable little cunt and the way he’s so shy and bold. He loves fucking him. That’s all he’d do, if he could, fuck Steve and eat, sleep spooned up behind him with his dick nestled in the warm curve of his ass. He fucks him nice and deep and steady to hear the low moans Steve's trying to keep behind his teeth. He can feel Steve working himself up to come, squeezing Bucky’s dick as his muscles contract and release, building. Bucky holds on as long as he can, thrusts nice and steady, then he pulls out. 

He drops Steve onto his shaky legs and spins him to face the wall before he can complain, pulls off the rubber neatly to drop it on the floor. Steve shivers all over. 

Bucky crowds up against his back, leans in, wraps an arm around him to help him stand. “Put your hands on the wall, baby.” Steve does, leaning forward a little like Bucky wants, giving him his ass. Bucky moves back. 

“You ready?” 

Steve nods. 

“Show me,” Bucky orders, and Steve spreads his legs, shows him his little pink hole. He’s always so tight, even when he’s already slick inside with Bucky’s come. Even his fingers look big when he gathers slick and pushes it into his ass, working him open. Steve’s panting, and he groans when Bucky finally works his own precome over his dick and presses in. He goes as slow as he can stand; Steve’s so tight, and the stretch has to hurt him at least a little bit, but he just hangs his head and shoves his ass back and breathes through it. 

He’s so good. He’s so, so good. “You take it so well, baby,” Bucky praises, and this is really the only time Steve accepts praise of any kind. He takes an experimental pull backwards, thinks about that time he bent Steve over the table and put his tongue in his ass till he was loose and messy, the way he slid right in. He buries himself to the hilt again, puts a hand on Steve’s belly, the other on his throat. 

“Take a deep breath,” he orders, and Steve does, immediately. Then Bucky covers his mouth, puts two fingers in his cunt, and fucks him hard and fast. 

Steve makes a loud, shocked noise, but Bucky was ready for it. He lets Steve breathe, covers his mouth again, and fucks him in front with his fingers, from behind with his dick, mean. Steve makes little hurt noises, and Bucky kisses his shoulders. 

“You breathing?” Bucky reminds him, and Steve nods, mouth open, panting. Bucky can hear the slick sound of his dick slamming into Steve’s ass, his balls slapping against his cheeks, his fingers working his cunt, and it’s filthy as hell. He can feel Steve trying so hard to come, can feel it in his cunt and his ass, which means he’s really got him worked up. He slides a third finger into Steve’s cunt, and his whole body just shakes. 

“Baby,” Bucky sighs, flipping his sweaty bangs away from his eyes, “come for me, let me feel you.” He manages to get his thumb on Steve’s dick, and Steve screams, hoarse and shocked, into Bucky’s palm, shakes and shakes as he comes with Bucky fucking him through it. He keeps trembling after he finishes, keeps taking it until Bucky buries himself deep and grunts, biting Steve’s shoulder and spilling deep inside him, gasping a little as he pulls back. 

“Shh,” Bucky soothes as his hips keep twitching of their own accord. “Shh.” He’s mindful to hold Steve now, thinks he might really fall if he doesn’t. He pulls out slowly, feels a pleased purr in his chest when he sees the line of come trailing down Steve’s leg. 

He gets down to the floor with Steve and holds him in his lap for a moment, Steve’s back to his chest, gets their breathing to match. “That’s good,” he says, feeling warm and proud, “that’s right.” 

Steve gets his breathing under control, but doesn’t fight it when Bucky wraps him up in his arms, and it makes Bucky’s chest swell. He kisses Steve’s hair, breathing in the warm and sweaty smell of him till Steve grumbles. 

“Sign for the grocery,” Steve mumbles. 

“Nap,” Bucky says. “’S Sunday. Day of rest. I’ll help you do it later.” 

“Bed,” Steve says, and slaps the stinging scratches on Bucky’s ass when Bucky picks him up. It’s pretty great, for as long as this day’ll last.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to all the cis male friends who walked me home at night.
> 
> sarah is based on my high school counselor. She was a muslim woman whose husband threw down an ultimatum- they had to kick out their young gay son because it was against God's law. She left him, left the country, and took her son with her to start over. She was a very brave woman.
> 
> Also worth noting that yes, I have gotten documents changed because the woman at the desk said "oh dear, they really messed this up, didn't they! I'm sorry about that!" and I nodded and smiled and said "yes, thank you ma'am." 
> 
> *menstrual pads interaction taken from Guts by Bomberqueen17, which is an incredible fic you should read.


End file.
